


Under the Skin

by musegaarid



Category: due South
Genre: Deaf Character, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musegaarid/pseuds/musegaarid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray discovers Fraser’s second biggest secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Skin

His phone went off at 3:49 in the morning. After three rings, Ray managed to grab it off the nightstand.

"Mmyah?"

"Kowalski? This is Waverly, night shift. We just picked up Kauffman for running a red light, of all things. Thought you’d like to talk to him."

Silence. Then Ray’s brain got up to speed. "Hell, yeah, I wanna talk to that creep. Let me pick up Fraser and I’m there in twenty." He slammed the phone down and tumbled out of bed trying to find his jeans. Ray grabbed his jacket, keys, gun, and wallet and took the stairs two at a time.

A few minutes later, he pulled the GTO to a stop in front of the Consulate and hustled to the front door, hopping from foot to foot and shaking the kinks out of his neck, buzzing with nervous energy. His mind was already on how to crack the crook, but the sight of an open front door jarred him out of his thoughts.

You’d have to be stupid to break into Canada, but there were plenty of stupid people left in Chicago...

Ray pushed open the door carefully and pulled his piece. Nothing was disturbed as far as he could tell, but that didn’t mean anything. He made his way silently down the hallway. Thatcher’s office was clean and so was the waiting room. That left Fraser’s room – and the door was cracked. Opening it as quietly as possible, Ray peered around the corner.

He probably could have dealt with a dead body or a tank full of arctic seals. Hell, finding half the mob, a panda on roller skates, and three Rastafarians playing "Go Fish" wouldn’t have surprised him. What did surprise him was finding Fraser sound asleep on his cot. With a naked man lying on top of him.

Ray fled.

***

For nearly four blessed hours, Ray managed to forget what he’d seen as he badgered Kauffman, playing good cop, bad cop, and crazy cop all by himself. The guy was ready to crack, Ray could sense it. He shook his arms out, ready to strike.

"Let’s go over this one more time," he began with a nasty little smile.

But Kauffman wasn’t paying any attention to him. He was looking over Ray’s shoulder.

"Aww, Christ... You gotta bring the Mountie into this? That’s like cruel and unusual punishment! Fine, fine, I’ll tell you anythin’ you wanna know. Just get him outta here."

Ray swiveled around violently before Kauffman had finished. Fraser had just walked in the door wearing full dress reds and smiling benevolently, but all Ray could see was some strange naked guy curled around him. In the light of day, Ray found it tough to reconcile The MountieTM with what he’d seen.

"Uh, you heard the guy, Frase," said Ray, making an awkward shooing gesture.

"As you wish." Fraser left as noiselessly as he’d arrived.

After the interruption, Ray had to try to remember what he’d been talking about. Oh, right. "Why don’t you start with the First National job in ’81?"

***

Another two hours and Ray had info on eleven bank robberies going back almost twenty years. He handed Kauffman over to Huey and Dewey for processing and collapsed into his desk chair.

"That was excellent police work, Ray," said Fraser warmly, like he was proud of him or something. He clapped him on the back, dropped a sandwich on the desk, and took a seat.

"Yeah, well," Ray shrugged, peeling apart the wax paper. "Sometimes you get lucky." And sometimes you remember to shut your fat mouth. He took a huge bite of his sandwich and tried not to think about anyone getting lucky.

Fraser took a much more moderate bite of his own lunch, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. "I think that had little to do with luck and more to do with perseverance and determination. Although, as Mr. Kauffman had such a strong reaction to my presence, you might have called me in sooner and saved yourself some time..." There was only a hint of remonstrance in his tone.

"Didn’t wanna wake you up," Ray muttered uncomfortably. That would have meant waking up the other guy and he really didn’t want to go through formal introductions with some naked guy who apparently knew Fraser better than he did.

 _"Ray!"_ said the sleep-tousled Fraser in his imagination. _"You must meet Naked Guy. Naked Guy, this is my partner, Ray. Ray, this is my_ partner _partner, Naked Guy."_ Ray rubbed his temple.

"That’s most considerate of you," said the real Fraser, peering concernedly at him. "But you know that justice never sleeps."

Ray didn't grace that with a reply, just bit viciously into his sandwich again. Fraser sat back in his chair and after a moment started humming something that Ray didn't recognize.

"You’re in a good mood today," he snarled.

"Am I? Ah, well, I suppose there’s nothing like a good night’s sleep to make one feel cheerful the next day."

Or having lots of gay sex, Ray thought bitterly. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. "I got... stuff. To do. Paperwork and stuff. Kauffman, you know..." He stood, abandoning his sandwich. "See ya later."

The Mountie stood as well. "Of course. Are we still 'on' for tonight?"

"Huh?"

"The Blackhawks play the Avalanche at seven."

Oh. "I, uh, I got up pretty early today, Frase. I don't think I'll be able to manage it." He had to be imagining the faint look of disappointment on Fraser’s face because when he looked again it was gone.

Fraser doffed his hat. "Tomorrow, then, Ray." He looked around. "Diefenbaker, let's go. No, Detective Dewey will not appreciate it if you eat his doughnut. Dief..." he sighed as the doughnut disappeared. "What have I told you about respecting the belongings of others? Regardless of whether Detective Dewey is part of the bourgeoisie, you cannot claim to be Marxist only in the interest of junk food..." His voice trailed off as Ray watched them leave the station together.

***

That night, Ray sat on his couch with the muted match flickering on TV, but he wasn't really watching. He was also very deliberately not thinking about what Fraser was doing at that moment. Instead, he was thinking over the events of the last few years. He and Frase had finally figured out their partnership thing; he'd proven that he wasn't just the Mountie's twitchy sidekick, but a good detective who could be a full and equal partner.

Their communication had improved a lot after Fraser managed to wrap his head around the idea that other people could make useful contributions, too. They had figured out how to get logic and instinct to work together and how to share space when there was no one else around for a hundred miles, because if they didn't, they'd end up killing each other. Three months they'd spent more or less alone together in the Arctic Circle. You'd think on just one of those long nights, curled up in sleeping bags with their faces inches away from each other in the utter darkness, Fraser might have confessed something like, "Ray, my best buddy, I like dick." Or rather, said something really long-winded about identity and told an Inuit story about a guy who transforms into a bear that basically all meant the same thing...

Yeah, it kind of made sense now that he thought about it. Fraser pretty much ran from anything with two X chromosomes unless he thought he could save her, or she was completely untrustworthy, or both. Even then, she always made the first move. But he'd never shown any interest in guys at all, as far as Ray could tell. So when had Fraser jumped on the Pride float? And why hadn't he told him about the Naked Guy? Thinking of Fraser having a secret social life that didn't involve him in any way made Ray feel incredibly lonely.

He flipped off the television and went to bed.

***

The next day, as they were on their way to interview a witness in a stabbing case, Ray said casually, "So, buddy, I felt bad about last night and picked up four tickets to the next home game."

Fraser looked surprised, but pleased. "That was certainly not necessary, Ray, but thank you kindly." He was quiet a moment. "Four?"

Ray grinned. "Yeah, in case you wanted to bring someone along."

"I... no." He shook his head. "Turnbull much prefers curling and Inspector Thatcher believes that all sport is inherently misogynistic."

"You don't hafta bring someone from work..."

Glancing over at him, Fraser asked, "Who did you wish to invite?"

"Me? I don't have anyone in mind. Just, you know, if you knew someone outside of work that you wanted to bring, it'd be cool with me."

"Perhaps... Detectives Huey and Dewey?"

"Sure," sighed Ray. This was going nowhere. "If that's what you want, I'll ask 'em later."

Looking relieved, the Mountie sat back and turned to look out the window. A second later, he barked out "Ray!" before throwing open the car door at 40 miles an hour and rolling out of the front seat to stop in front of a storefront. Ray sighed again and pulled the emergency brake.

***

Writing up the ski-by liquor store incident, Ray decided that he needed to be subtler here. For whatever reason, Fraser wasn't going to be forthcoming with the information, so he'd have to do what he did to every uncooperative witness and work backwards. In this case, it meant that he'd have to find out when Fraser was too busy to hang out with him. That would probably mean he was spending the time with Naked Guy instead.

Ray glanced up at his partner. "Hey, Frase. Wanna see that Indian movie that's out now?"

The Mountie frowned without looking up. "Native American, Ray."

"Wanna see that Indian Native American that's out now?" he grinned. "There's a kid with big glasses who tells a lot of pointless stories - you'll like it. C'mon, whaddya say? I can do Friday or Saturday night."

Fraser looked up. "I'm free either evening."

Huh. Okay... That answered that, but now Ray was sort of obliged to actually go to the movie. "Let's say Friday, then."

***

They went to the movie on Friday. Fraser loved it, of course, talking endlessly about the similarities of oral tradition amongst all the native peoples of the Americas. Ray was kind of surprised to find that he enjoyed it, too. Even the other Indians hadn't wanted to hear the kid's stories, which was sort of a relief.

Ray showed up at the Consulate bright and early the next day with a half-dozen bagels in case Naked Guy was a morning person. He wasn't there. So Ray and Fraser had a bagel each and Dief had two. Fraser had a few errands to run, but he let Ray tag along. They ended up spending the afternoon at the Art Institute and the evening watching a high school production of _Our Town_.

For three weeks Ray did everything he could think of to find out about Naked Guy. He went by the Consulate at all hours and invited his partner to all kinds of things: museums, concerts, fairs, sporting events, dances, lectures, tastings, anything he could think of that Fraser might like, but Fraser was always alone and always available. Ray was beginning to think that Naked Guy had been a one-night stand, even if it was really difficult to imagine Mr. Do-Gooder picking up anonymous guys for casual sex.

Then, just when Ray was starting to wonder if the whole thing had been a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep...

“Hey, Frase,” Ray called across the break room. “Concert in the park tonight, yeah?”

Fraser rubbed at his eyebrow. “I’m, ah, afraid I can’t make it this evening, Ray.”

“Something going down in Canada?”

“No. Just a personal engagement.” When Fraser wouldn’t meet his eye, Ray knew that this was it. He had to play it cool.

“Okay. Next time, maybe.”

That earned him a rare, genuine smile from the Mountie. “Next time,” Fraser agreed.

***

After Fraser clocked out, Ray waited another full hour before taking off. Not wanting to go home, he ended up at the concert anyway, sitting on the grass between a young family and an older couple. It was okay, but he’d chosen it thinking Fraser would enjoy himself, not because Ray had any interest in classical music.

Another couple hours found him at the neighborhood bar nursing a beer until it turned warm in his hands. He set it down, disgusted with himself. How much more pathetic could he be? Ray slapped down a five, making a decision. It wasn’t buddies, but he had to know. He got in the car and headed toward the Consulate.

***

He parked in the shadows with a view of the front door, wondering if he should stay in the car or go knock. It was pretty late by then, but there were still a few lights left on inside. Before Ray could decide, the Naked Guy stumbled out of the darkness and pushed his way through the door without bothering with the knob.

“What the hell!”

Ray was inside before he realized he’d left the car. Fraser stood in the lobby, staring at him with a horribly guilty look on his face; Naked Guy was nowhere to be seen.

“Ray... I didn’t expect to see you this evening.”

“Cut the crap, Frase,” Ray replied, feeling unaccountably angry. “I saw him come in here. Where’s Naked Guy? You hiding psychos now?”

Fraser bit his lip and tugged at the collar of his flannel shirt. “I, ah, I’m afraid I have a confession to make. You see...”

“I already know you’re sleepin’ with him,” interrupted Ray. “I just wanna know why he’s wandering around Chicago with no clothes when it’s 40 degrees out there. You got half the city wanting in your pants and you gotta sleep with the crazy guy?”

“I’m not sleeping with him!” Fraser looked shocked, which was a good look on him, actually - those spots of color on his cheeks and wide, stormy eyes… Ray shook his head, telling himself to focus. “Well, I mean, technically, perhaps, but...”

Ray took a step into Fraser’s personal space and poked him in the chest. “I ain’t interested in your sam... seman... whatever words you wanna use to describe it. I just wanna make sure you ain’t doing something stupid, so I’ll ask again. Where’s Naked Guy?”

Fraser drew himself up stiffly. “You’re laboring under a misconception, Ray. There is no ‘Naked Guy.’ The man you saw entering the building was, in fact, Diefenbaker. He’s a were...”

“Don’t you dare. You try to tell me that Dief is a werewolf, I swear to God, I will pop you one.” Ray was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Because that is such an effective manner of resolving our differences,” Fraser snarked.

“I ain’t stupid, you know,” Ray continued. “Werewolves are wolves only on the night of a full moon and guys the rest of the time. It’s not the full moon, and Dief is always a wolf. Half-wolf. Whatever.”

“Ray, if you would kindly just _shut up_ for thirty seconds, I would be glad to explain,” huffed the Mountie.

Stunned into silence, Ray crossed his arms over his chest and flopped into the nearest chair. He waved a hand in what he hoped was a sarcastic _oh, please, do go on, Your Majesty_ kind of way.

Fraser fell into parade rest. “Thank you. Now, as I was trying to explain, Diefenbaker is not a werewolf. He is a were _man_.”

Ray opened his mouth to object, but Fraser quickly placed a hand over it. Considering whether he should lick Fraser’s palm just to get him to take his hand off, Ray almost missed the rest of the explanation.

“He was bitten by a trapper as a pup. Now he is doomed to take human form once a month on the new moon.”

Then Fraser carefully removed his hand. Ray glared at him.

“You seriously expect me to buy that? It don’t explain why he’s running around the city naked.”

“He has difficulty with clothing,” Fraser sighed. “And doorknobs, window latches, forks... anything that requires opposable thumbs, in fact. He doesn’t get much practice only being human one night a month. Especially since he prefers to simply sleep through the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I saw him sleeping, all right. On top of you. The morning we caught Kauffman.”

“Ah.” Fraser looked embarrassed.

“Ah?”

“Yes, well, that’s where he always sleeps.” Fraser thumbed an eyebrow. “I didn’t think it necessary to alter our arrangement just because he happens to occasionally take on another form.”

“Uh huh. A naked form. A naked guy form. You can lie better than that, Frase. I’ve seen it.”

Looking frustrated, Fraser hauled Ray out of the chair. “Come on, then.” He walked back to his office door and threw it open. “Dief! Wake up.”

The guy on the cot had his eyes closed and didn’t so much as flinch when Fraser clapped his hands.

“His senses are duller as a human,” he explained. “Scent, taste, and of course he’s still deaf. Plus, he finds seeing in color somewhat disconcerting. It’s why he prefers to ignore the whole thing.” Fraser laid a hand on the guy’s shoulder.

In the meantime, Ray was looking anywhere but the obvious, trying to trace a resemblance to the Dief he knew, but it was just a big, normal-looking guy. A little shaggy, maybe. And very naked. Just then, the guy opened his eyes, focused on Ray, and gave a big, doofy grin.

“Thooor!” exclaimed the man loudly, jumping to his feet. He sniffed at Ray’s hair and then messily licked his ear.

Ray batted him away. “Ew! What the…?!" Yeah, that pretty much clinched it. Not even crazy hobos left saliva on his ears. "Dief! Cut it out!” Searching his pockets, he found a half-eaten protein bar left over from breakfast. Ray pulled it out of its wrapper and tossed it to the man, who promptly caught it with his mouth.

“What's 'Thooor'?” Ray asked as he tried to wipe his ear with his sleeve.

Fraser rubbed the back of his neck. “He generally refers to you as ‘the thorny one.’ His diction is better as a wolf, of course.”

“Huh. What’d he call Vecchio?”

“’The slippery one.’”

With a grin, Ray patted Dief on the head. It was a bit weird, but everything about his life was lately. Then the wereman fell back onto the cot and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly. Ray stepped back abruptly. “Yeah, no. Maybe not ever again.”

Dief laughed.

Then Ray turned his attention back to Fraser. “So, uh, I guess I owe you an apology. I’m sorry that I thought you were gay and sleeping with your wolf.” Ray winced. That sounded even worse out loud.

“You... I... Oh.” Fraser said finally. "I thought you... all those times..." He was gazing at the floor.

Ray ducked down, trying to catch his eye. "You thought I what? You thought I..." Then Mr. Instinct kicked in. "...knew about you. You thought those times we went out were dates. That we were _dating_." Ray knew he was right, he just didn't know how he knew.

Fraser turned a humiliated shade of red and didn't answer. And yeah, Ray was a little freaked out. Finding out that Diefenbaker was a wereman was weird enough without also learning that his partner – his buddy-breathing, leg-groping, centerfold of a partner – was gay. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Ray had already figured that Fraser was gay and he'd been mostly fine with it. But learning that Fraser was gay for _him_ made Ray feel a little hinky.

Then again, the last month had been the most fun he could remember having in a long time. Maybe ever. Even if it was all improving and cultural and stuff, he had never felt stupid or outclassed. In fact, he'd felt sort of... appreciated. Cherished.

Ray took a deep breath. "How many times have we gone out, Benton, buddy?"

He barely heard the answer it was so quiet. "...This evening's concert would have been our sixteenth outing, if the film marked the first occasion and one counts each day as a singular extended... event, rather than counting each individual activity."

Ray processed this. "Huh." He grinned and sidled forward. "You, uh, usually put out on the sixteenth date?"

Fraser finally looked up, his expression guarded but hopeful.

"I... might?"

***

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> The film that Ray and Fraser watch is Smoke Signals. 
> 
> First posted in August 2010.


End file.
